Walking Fred
by UnzippedTiff
Summary: Winnifred Hallewell had spent most of her life running from the ghosts in her past. Intelligent, nimble but also very damaged, she is found by Daryl and given the opportunity for a new life, healing, friendship and possibly more. Slow Daryl x OC story. Will get very dark at times. Rated M for violence, language and eventual smut. Summary sucks, but please give it a chance!
1. The Mistakes We Make

**A/N: Welcome to Walking Fred! This is my first attempt at fan fiction so I really hope you like it. Please rate, review, comment and PLEASE send constructive criticism my way. If you want me to keep writing, let me know. Your opinions matter and will help me improve the story. Obviously, The Walking Dead and its locations and Characters do not belong to me. I own nothing but Fred. Enjoy! =)**

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She looked at her watch. It was noon and she'd been walking for nearly 4 hours, finally stopping to take a sip from her canteen, while taking in her surroundings. Shoving the canteen back in her pack, Winnifred put her hands on her hips and let out a long breath of relief. "Welcome to suburbia, Fred." she mused to herself, a small smirk on her face. She had always hated the suburbs, but when she was low on food and other necessities, she thanked the gods for gluttonous yuppies.

Noticing a rather large tree to her left side, Fred decided to climb as far up as she could to get a better look of the area. She knew better than to assume that just because the neighborhood looked empty, it actually was. Nothing was safe. The risen dead were a risk as it was. Throwing live people in the mix was even riskier. You couldn't trust anyone. Catching herself unconsciously rubbing her fingers over an ugly pink scar on her throat, she stopped herself and shook her head. "Focus." she whispered.

Securing her pack and katana in place, she hoisted herself up onto the lowest hanging branch. Climbing trees was nothing new to Fred. Climbing just about anything was nothing new for the young woman. Making her way nearly to the top, she found a big enough branch to support her tiny body and her possessions. Pushing some leaves out of the way and putting the binoculars to her eyes, she scanned the area. Once, twice, three times. No dead, no people, no nothing. Deciding to wait a little while, just to be sure, she pulled a granola bar from her pack and started to eat.

After 20 minutes had gone by and nothing had changed around her, she climbed her way back down the tree. Once on the ground, she headed to the first car in her path. Opening it up and thoroughly searching through it found her a small bottle of aspirin and a pack of gum. "Better than nothing." she thought. She cautiously walked up the path to the house in front of her, one hand gripping the handle of her katana. Quickly and quietly walking up the stairs of the porch, she peered in the windows to make sure there were no surprises. Seeing nothing, she slowly turned the knob of the front door. Finding it unlocked, she opened it and slipped inside, closing it silently behind her.

One hand still on her katana, Fred made her way through the first and second floor, focusing on making sure she was alone before rummaging for goods. Finding the place safe for the time, she was finally able to search through every closet, cabinet and drawer in the house. Unfortunately for her, the former inhabitants of the house had taken with them anything worth taking besides toothpaste and a bar of soap. Putting both into her pack, she sighed and moved onto the next car and the next house. Several houses and three undead homeowners later, she was still basically empty handed, with the exception of a few cans of soup and beans.

Checking her watch, she saw it was close to 3:00pm and she still had a long walk back to her bunker. She had to make it back before it started getting dark. Not ready to completely give up yet, she decided to check out one last house at the end of the street. An unusually nice, black car with tinted windows was sitting in the driveway. It was a little too nice, even for this kind of neighborhood. "Drug dealer." she mumbled.

After all her usual checks, she started her search in an upstairs bedroom. Finding a few articles of clothing close her size, she threw them on the bed. Combing through what appeared to be a teenage girl's room, she found some unused makeup and a small hand mirror. She had no one she wanted to impress but it was still nice to feel pretty. Touching up her eyeliner, she stared at herself in the vanity that the teenager had in her room. Pulling her two auburn braids over her shoulders, she used one of the braids to try and cover her scar but it was too high up on her neck. Shrugging, she gave up and moved on through the rest of the top floor, throwing her findings on the bed with the clothes.

Coming upon the last room on the upper floor, she noticed all the family photos lining the hallway walls. They looked like a normal family. Not that she had any semblance of what a "normal" family looked like. She had left hers behind long ago and never looked back. These people looked like they belonged in magazines. One picture even had the whole family. A Dad, Mom, teenage girl, very young boy and even Grandma. She ran a finger over the boy in the picture and sighed, turning away. Opening the door, she knew this room was the old woman's. Taking in the obscene amount of everything cat related, Fred was surprised to feel a small laugh leave her mouth. She had almost forgotten what it felt like.

Fred had almost no doubt that she would find anything she needed in this room but she started peeking anyway. Closet and dresser turned up nothing but she continued on now completely engrossed in the odd and somewhat creepy cat knick-knacks this woman had owned. She poked at a Cheshire bobble-head cat before looking down and noticing a large, old suitcase partially hidden under the bed. Dragging it completely out, she sat on the floor and opened it up.

The contents included a small handgun, several rolls of cash and a couple pounds of marijuana. Fred gaped at the stash in front of her. This was Grandma's stash. She had found her drug dealer. Looking around the room at all the cat memorabilia, the family photographs and back at the suitcase of drugs, Fred couldn't help but laugh. She tried picturing this little old woman carrying around a gun in her purse, selling pot to teenagers. Fred sniffed the product. "Good shit, Grandma." she barely managed to get out of her mouth before doubling over in laughter. Laughing so hard, she failed to hear the rumbling of car engines coming closer.

Daryl stopped his car at the end of the street with the other two cars following suit. Grabbing his crossbow, he exchanged a tired glance with Michonne before they got out of the car to join the rest of the group they brought on the run. After a quick perimeter check, Daryl called them back together to break up into search groups. "Glenn 'n Maggie can take those three. Sasha, Tyreese, three o'er there. Me and Michonne can take the last two. Meet back here in an hour or less. Gettin' late so let's make it quick." Daryl grunted out a bit gruffer than he meant. They'd be out on this run all day and after an encounter with a large group of walkers, he and the rest were exhausted.

With quick nods of acknowledgment, the pairs went their separate ways, cautiously walking to their destinations.

Entering their first house, Daryl and Michonne could tell right away that someone had already been inside. A walker lay at their feet with half of his skull missing. She bent down and lightly stuck the tip of her finger in the black goop that was once human blood. Michonne squinted her eyes, wiping it on the shirt of the walker and looked up at Daryl. "It's fresh. I didn't see any cars that weren't covered in dust. Did you?" she asked. "No." he shook his head and added, "Guess we ain't alone."

Although they already knew it would be empty they decided to do a brief search anyway, in case they were right about not being alone. When their search turned up nothing, they headed back outside spotting the others who were also empty handed. Determined to find something of use, they all continued on to the rest of the houses. Daryl lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. Michonne had decided to head into the next house by herself as it didn't appear they had anything to really worry about.

He surveyed the area. A few lawns had random children's toys strewn about them. The grass was growing wild from being un-mowed for so long. Even the road was being taken over by nature. He leaned against a nearby car while he waited on Michonne. Some of the others had started trickling out of the house and had begun looking through cars, trying to siphon whatever remaining gasoline they could. Daryl glanced at the last house they were going to check. It was big and he was hoping whoever had been there before them hadn't taken everything. As he went to take another drag, something moved by one of the windows, catching his attention. Standing up from the car, he tossed his cigarette and focused on the windows of the bottom floor. More movement, this time he was sure. Question was whether it was a walker or a person.

"Something wrong?" Michonne asked him as she walked up to the car. He jumped lightly, caught off guard. She smirked at the small victory. It wasn't easy to sneak up on Daryl and everyone knew that. "Nah. Prolly jus' a walker. I'll take care of this one." he indicated, motioning at their last house. She crossed her arms, weight shifted to one leg, standing her ground. Seeing she hadn't moved, he looked at her, slightly annoyed. "Go on an' help the others. Don't need no babysitter!" he insisted, waving her away with his hand. Smirk still on her face, she turned around and walked to the remaining group while Daryl walked to the last house on the street, crossbow in his hands.

Fred added the small handgun to the pile of things she had found on the upper floor, leaving behind the cash and pot. Wrapping everything up in the bed sheet, she slung it over her shoulder and headed downstairs to check out the bottom floor and the kitchen. Looking in a closest that was adjacent to the living room, Fred was very pleased to find an assortment of old electronics and tools. She could use some of these items to build alarms, among other things for her bunker. She didn't know much about most but she had picked up a few tricks over the years and she was thankful that that trick had stuck. Placing them in her pack, she moved into the kitchen.

Standing in front of the kitchen cabinets, Fred found herself holding her breath. She knew better than to get her hopes up but she had a good feeling she was going to be more than pleased with what she would find. Letting out her breath, she opened the cabinet doors and almost squealed at delight with what was in front of her. She quickly opened the next set of cabinets and this time, she did squeal.

They were fully stocked. Ramen noodles, macaroni and cheese, boxes of pastas, sauces for the pasta, canned fish, canned fruit and vegetables of all kinds, unopened condiments and even several different seasons. Fred was so happy she was ready to burst into tears. Instead she settled for happy dancing through the kitchen, past the window, into the living room and back. Ready to get out of there, she started throwing everything into her pack. Standing on the tips of her toes to make sure she got everything, she noticed a bottle of liquor, slightly pushed back on the top shelf. Grabbing a nearby chair, she climbed up and took out the bottle. Bourbon. She grinned and climbed off the chair. Carefully she wrapped the bottle in a couple dish towels and added it to her already heavy pack. It was finally time to go.

Now was a time when Fred wished she could drive. She knew the basics but not enough to get her back in one piece. Knowing she had a heavy haul and a long walk made her almost consider trying to take a car but she decided against it anyway. With her pack and katana in place, she slung the bed sheet of stuff over her shoulder and began to head for the door when movement outside caught her attention. Rushing over to the window she saw several people walking around, looking through the cars. Relieved that none of them seemed to be paying the house she was in any attention. She counted five people. There were three women and two men.

She hadn't seen live people in weeks and she wanted nothing to do with them. They were in the way of her road back to her bunker. Fred began to panic. She was alone and there were men. It didn't matter if they had women with them. Women could be just as cruel and evil and for all she knew, there could be more of them in places she couldn't see. Looking around outside, she noticed that if she stayed behind the houses in the tree lines, she could easily slip by them and get back on her trail as long as none of them popped out of nowhere and the dead didn't give her any trouble. All she had to do was slip out the side door.

Fred began to back up when she bumped into something soft but solid. A light gurgling sound made her whip around pulling her katana out ready to kill what was in front of her. Her eyes widened and she froze. It was the little boy from the family photos. What was left of him that is. The left side of his face had been torn to shreds, with no eye to speak of and his arm appeared dislocated. Fred felt sick at the sight of this once beautiful child, now a groaning monster.

He began to reach for her, teeth gnashing and loudly gurgling. "No! No, no, no, no, no!" she choked out, raising her blade over her head while moving away from the once child. Her hands shook above her. "He's just a boy." she whispered to no one, feeling tears brimming. The boy limped inch by inch to her before tripping over his own feet. Closing her eyes briefly and holding back the sob that was threatening to take over, she let out an uneven breath and thrust her katana through the back of his skull. Pulling the sword from his head, she wiped it on the table cloth next to her, secured it back in place and headed for the side door.

This was far from Fred's first time killing the undead, but it was her first child. He was no older than 6. Fred felt woozy. Walking to the door, she had to support herself on the wall. _"I just killed a kid."_ she thought to herself, _"Murdered.. a child. He looked like.."_. She found the door and opened it, trying to be quiet and careful but practically falling outside. The world was spinning and she her stomach was flip flopping. If it hadn't been for the fresh air, she would've passed out. Instead, she was going to throw up. Practically running to the back of a tree, she steadied herself against it and released what little stomach contents she had. Feeling better physically, she stood up and looked around the tree to where the people were huddled by the cars.

Fred could feel the tears welling up again. She had just killed a child, moments ago and now she still had to deal with getting by them. It was late and if she didn't get past them soon, she'd be walking in the dark. Feeling overwhelmed, mostly by sadness, she found herself choking back sobs. Leaning against the tree, she pressed one palm to the tree for support and the other to her mouth to cover the sounds fighting to escape her body. The sound of a twig breaking close behind her jolted her to attention but before she could grab her katana and turn around, her ears were met with a gruff southern drawl.

"Don't fucking move." was all he said and Fred dropped her hands, starting to shake again. She started biting her lip to try and stifle her tears but it wasn't working. "Now ya can turn around but if ya try anything funny, I'll shoot ya in th' leg, ya hear me?" he spoke again, and Fred nodded her head quickly. Tears were freely flowing down her face at this point, both by fear of this man and because she couldn't get the boy's face out of her mind. She started to turn around, with her hands up in front of her. "Are ya alone out here?" the man asked her. Fred slowly nodded and finally she was face to face with him. Her eyes widened with even more fear at seeing his crossbow pointed right at her. Stony blue eyes locked with teary hazels. "Are.. are you crying?" there was guilt in his question and a sob finally escaped her.

_"Shit! Now what?"_ Daryl thought to himself. _"What do I do? What do I say? Why do I give a fuck?"_ The woman in front of him was practically bawling at this point. She probably thought he was going to murder her, or worse. He was now regretting some choice words he had used on her. Not wanting to garner the attention of the rest of the group or walkers, he attempted to calm her down. "Hey, listen. I didn't mean what I said before. I wasn't gonna shoot ya unless ya tried to cut off my head." he spoke to her in a small attempt at sounding comforting. She was still crying but the hysterics were gone and she still looked petrified. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, I promise." he emphasized by crossing his heart. Completely uncharacteristic for him but he wanted to reassure her that he meant no harm. Fred still wasn't convinced but she wiped away the tears and nodded her head again before adding, "It would probably be more believable if you pointed that crossbow at something other than my head." He briefly looked at the crossbow and back to her before lowering it. "Fair 'nough." he stated simply.

Daryl could see her relax a bit but she was still slightly shaking. Chocking it up to the colder weather and her thin clothing, he offered her his vest which she declined and pulled out a dark green hoodie from her bed sheet of goodies. After she zipped it up , she was met with his hand out as if to shake hers. "Name's Daryl." he informed her, waiting for her response. She hesitated a moment before sliding her hand into his to shake it. His hand felt rough and calloused but she was surprised at how gently it actually felt. He looked at their hands and back to her waiting on her name. Realizing she hadn't responded yet, she dropped his hold and replied, "My name is Fred." Slight confusion crossed his face and she knew where this was going, so she stopped him before he could make any stupid remarks. "My full name is Winnifred. It's a really old family name and since people seem to like to compare it to Winnie the Pooh, I've just dropped it to Fred." she sighed, waiting for the inevitable laughter. When it didn't come, she looked at him and he shrugged. "Fred's good 'nough for me." he mumbled.

For a moment or two, they both awkwardly stood there. Daryl was unsure what to say, while Fred was not sure when to run. "Ya said you're out here by yourself? What about a camp or somethin'?" he asked her. Seeing slight fear return to her eyes, he put his hands up. "It was just a question. Me and my group don't like seeing people out on their own. We've got a good thing goin' at this prison a couple hours north of here. We've got food, shelter, water, showers even. Plenty of protection an' no walkers." he offered. She tilted her head a little. "Walkers?" she paused a beat, "You mean the dead right?" she questioned. "Yeah, them." he nodded taking a step toward her causing her to instantly jump back, her right shoulder connecting with the tree hard enough to scrape her up pretty decently, through her clothing. "Shit! Ow!" she cursed at the tree before turning and kicking it.

Daryl stifled a chuckle as seeing this woman kicking a tree. He stopped when he saw she was bleeding through the fabric of her hoodie. "I hate to interrupt but you're bleeding pretty good ya know." he pointed out to her. Turning around and using her other hand to slip inside the back of her shirt, she winced slightly and pulled out her hand covered in a decent amount of blood. "Groovy." was all she said. "We might have some bandages at the cars but Dr. S back at the prison can fix it up better for ya. Why don't ya come with us?" his offer polite. She gave him a small smile. "Look, it's nothing personal, but I don't know you and for all I know, this could be some kind of trap. You know, send in the good looking one to charm the girl, or whatever. If it's just the same to you, I'll just be going back to my bunker, alone." She started to walk away before she added, "It was nice to meet you Daryl."

Dumfounded, Daryl stood there for a minute and watched the young woman start to make her way through the trees, replaying what she just said in his mind. _"The good looking one. She thinks I'm good looking?"_ He knew if Merle had been there, he never would've let that go. Or let a beautiful girl like her just go. Daryl turned on his heel, grabbing his crossbow and running to catch up with her. The sun was getting dangerously low and if they weren't on the road soon, they'd be stuck. Suddenly Maggie's voice yelling "WALKERS!" carried through the air, quickly followed by an unfamiliar scream and gun shots. Daryl ran out from the trees into the road which was rapidly being taking over by a small herd of walkers. Curses were thrown out of the mouths of the different group members as the hacked, slashed and shot their way through the herd. After most of them were down, Daryl turned to the group, asking them if they had seen a woman run by. Before any of them could answer, another yelp could be heard over near the big tree Fred had previously used as a look out.

"Take out as many as ya can and get everything in the cars! I'll grab her!" Daryl shouted back at the group before running down the street, out of sight. "Who is he talking about?" Sasha asked before thrusting a knife through a female walkers head. "Crazy redneck." Michonne muttered before slicing the top of another walker's skull.

When Daryl found Fred, she was backed up against the tree, surrounded by about 15 walkers. He could see much but her katana slicing through some while other attempted to take chunks out of any piece of her they could. Pushing and kicking them away wasn't doing her any good and just when she was about to get the first bite taken out of her, a bow came straight through the once police man's head. Daryl started yelling to attract some of the attention on him, which worked for a few of them. He quickly took them out only to look over and see Fred half in the tree, holding on for dear life as one last walk was trying to pull her out and take a bite out of her leg. Crying hysterically she kicked it right in the face which only seemed to anger and increase its strength. With one last pull, Fred lost her grip and tumbled to the ground with the walker, but not before smashing her head on a large rock below.

Fred's vision was fading in an out and she knew she was gonna pass out. The walker was on top of her and there was nothing she could do. Suddenly it was ripped off of her and she barely made out the figure of Daryl shoving a knife in its brain. The world was spinning again and she tried to reach out for him before it all went black. He turned and ran over to her, shaking her. "Fred! Fred, can ya hear me?" he yelled at her, before checking her pulse and he breathing. She was alive. Tyreese had made his way over to them. "Hey man, we gotta go now! More of 'em keep coming. It ain't safe." he started, "Is she bit?" he asked tensely. "Nah, don't think so. Needa get her back to the prison and have Dr. S take a look." he stated firmly. Daryl picked her up in his arms and was surprised at how light she was. Looking over at Tyreese, he asked the bigger man to grab all her stuff.

Michonne opted to ride with Sasha and Tyreese so Fred could be comfortable and also so in case she woke up, she'd see a familiar face. With the cars loaded, most of the walkers killed and about an hour before the sun finally went down, they were ready to make the trip back to the prison.


	2. Follow The Leader

**AN: Hello again! Back with a new chapter. This one is a bit shorter but I'm going to try and get another chapter up in the next few days to make up for it. I forgot to mention in the first chapter that this story starts a couple weeks after season 3 and will eventually catch up to where we are on season 4. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please review, as it gives me more motivation to write the next chapter. Fred is the only thing I own.**

**Special shout out to Katnthe box for being my first reader.**

**Leyshla Gisel - Thank you for the review!**

**Hideher, Leyshla Gisel and mamareadstomuch2 - Thank you for following my story!**

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"I don't think that's a good idea." Maggie stated as she watched her father handcuff the woman they had few just a couple hours earlier to the bunk bed in one of the cells. "It's just a precaution." Hershel replied looking at Daryl for support. Daryl chewed the inside of his lip and shrugged. Receiving neither a yes or no, Hershel continued. "She could be violent." Glenn offered, agreeing with Hershel. "_OR_ she could be terrified!" Maggie started, frustrated and crossing her arms. Michonne nodded her head before adding, "Waking up in a prison cell, handcuffed to the bed and surrounded by a bunch of men she doesn't know. It's not gonna be pretty." Tension was thick in the cell. "We could take them off after I examine her?" Dr. S suggested, trying his best to ease the tension. Mumbling something under her breath, Maggie stalked out of the cell followed by Glenn trying to reassure her. After quick glance at the young woman passed out on the bed, Michonne quietly left as well.

Daryl was still silent, watching Dr. S examine Fred's head. He knew that he wouldn't like to wake up handcuffed to anything but Hershel had a point. They had only spoken for a few minutes behind the tree and although she didn't seem crazy, he also knew that crazy could be hidden for a time. Resigned to his responsibility to keep the group safe now that Rick had stepped down as their leader, Daryl decided to keep his mouth shut. Feeling hunger starting to take over, he left the cell and headed to the cafeteria for dinner.

Entering the eating area, Daryl was met with many questioning looks, wanting to know about the woman. Knowing they wouldn't get an answer at the time, most of them just went back to eating. With the exception of Hershel and Dr. S, the tables were almost full with their fairly new residents from Woodbury and what was left of his group. Grabbing a tray of food, he was going to just eat in his cell when he saw an empty seat across from Rick. Daryl hesitated a moment, not really in the mood to talk to anyone, but he _needed_ to talk to Rick.

Rick gave Daryl a nod as he sat down. With a quick nod in return, Daryl took a bite of the mashed potatoes on his tray, unsure of what to say. Rick, sensing that Daryl had questions put a hand up to stop him before he could even start. "I'm not your leader anymore." he stressed firmly. "I jus needa know that I did the right thing. Bringin' her here." Daryl asked Rick anyway. When the former Sheriff didn't say anything, Daryl continued. "She said she was on her own. Didn' need any help. I told her bout what we got here but she said she was jus gonna head on back to her bunker. Woman cracked her skull on a damn rock. Couldn't jus leave her there for walker chow."

Rick could tell how unsure Daryl was of his decision to bring the girl to the prison without her consent. Daryl was clearly looking for approval. Rick sighed and looked at the man across the way from him, waiting a beat before answering him. "No, you did the right thing. She needed help. When she wakes up, if she wants to leave, then let her." Daryl nodded, seemingly lighter than when he had first sat down. He started to get up when Rick stopped him again. "I appreciate you askin' my opinion on the matter Daryl, but I don't make the decisions anymore." He paused, "Why didn't you just ask the rest of the counsel?" Daryl thought for a moment. "Ya were a tin man before all this. Law abidin', providin' justice or whatever. Ya see right and wrong better than most I've known and I know ya wouldn' give me some bullshit answer." he answered Rick before picking up his tray of food and walking out to his cell. Rick sat there taking in what Daryl had just said, wishing he was half as good a man as Daryl seemed to think he was. A hand on his shoulder made him look up to see Michonne. "He's right you know." she told him, flashing a small smile before walking to another table and having a seat.

Daryl sat on his bed and absent mindfully ate the food on his tray. Staring at nothing on his cell wall, he found himself replaying everything that had happened just a few hours ago. The ride to their destination, the empty houses, and the walkers they had encountered. Then there was the woman he found with a decently sized scar on the side of her neck. She didn't know he had seen it and it was obvious that she was trying to hide it. Shaking his head, he decided to put it out of his mind. He'd seen scars like that before and he couldn't help but wonder who and why someone had tried to slit her throat. _"None of my business." _he scolded himself in his head.

He watched all the people walking by his cell door. Some even popped their head in to say hello before making their way to wherever they were going. Most were heading back to their cell blocks for the night and the rest were either on patrol or cleaning up the kitchen for the night. Daryl looked down at his now empty tray and stood up to bring it back to the kitchen when suddenly he heard a scream and people shouting.

Tossing his plate on the bed, he grabbed his crossbow and started heading fast to where all the noise was coming from on the bottom floor. Recognizing two of the voices as Hershel and Dr. S, Daryl could only assume that the woman he had rescued earlier had been bitten and turned. Almost colliding with Rick, they both ran to the cell, when Daryl realized that some of the shouting was coming from a woman. A woman named Fred. Finally able to make out what all the shouting was about, he heard Hershel trying to calm her down and Dr. S trying to explain the situation. "We're not going to hurt you but if you don't come down from there, you're going to cut up your wrist even more!" came from Hershel. "I'm a doctor! You have a concussion! We only want to help!" Dr. S exclaimed.

Once Daryl had reached the cell, he took in the scene in front of him. Hershel was at one end of the bed, with Dr. S at the other gesturing at the tiny woman to come down from the top bunk. Despite her left hand being handcuffed to one of the polls, she had managed to climb up there, her wrist bleeding from trying to pull it out of the restraint. "Get away from me! You can have my stuff but please let me go! I can't do this again." Fred pleaded with them, tears streaming down her face. Daryl felt awful, realizing what she thought they were going to do with her. Putting down his crossbow, he looked at Rick who had already lowered his gun and stepped inside the cell. A small handful of people had gathered to see what all the commotion was about. "They're jus' tryin' ta help ya." he said calmly while walking slowly to the bunk. Dr. S and Hershel left the cell, Hershel trying to shoo away some of the people who had crowded up outside the cell.

The shouting had stopped once he entered the cell with his hands up. Daryl had hoped she would calm down if she saw a familiar face and he seemed to be right. Her eyes widened and recognition crossed her face. "You!" she barely squeaked out. Nodding his head at her he finally reached the bunk bed. Fred scooted closer to the edge of the bed, cautiously, leaving no more than half a foot between the two of them. "You son of a bitch! I told you I didn't need your damn help and I wake up in a fucking prison cell! I knew this was a trap! You're not getting anything from me without a fight!" Fred screamed at him before her free fist collided with his face, hard.

Not expecting her to punch him, he stumbled back a few steps. He'd been hit a lot harder but those punches he knew were coming. Seeing this, a few people started to rush in to help but Daryl shook his head at them while rubbing his jaw. He was furious. Daryl glared at Fred, who had finally noticed the crowd of people that had formed outside the cell. Fred's face softened and turned into confusion.

"Ya see all them?" he started, getting her attention back to him. "We got women an' kids here too. We're not a bunch of rapists!" he pointed to the group outside the cell, many of them nodding in agreement. "What was I supposed to think, huh? I woke up handcuffed to a bed with men looking me over." she asked, no longer screaming. "I told you that I didn't want to come here and I didn't need your help." Fred reminded him. "Coulda fooled me!" his voice getting louder. "What was I suppose' to do? Ya cracked yer head on a rock and was out cold! Did ya want me to jus' leave you there to be a walker's dinner?" He yelled while slightly pacing. Fred wouldn't look at him. She could feel his eyes burning holes in her. He was right and she knew it but she couldn't admit it. Looking at the un-cuffed hand in her lap, Fred hung her head, which gave Daryl another glimpse at her scar. He stopped pacing when he knew she wasn't going to give him an answer. "Whatever. Jus' leave then." he grunted, picking up his crossbow and exiting through the crowd that parted for him.


	3. Right and Wrong

**A/N: Ladies and (possibly?) Gentlemen! I'm back with another chapter. So sorry it's taken this long but it has been a hectic couple of weeks and I had to focus on some things that actually pay me, lol! Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for my disappearance and I REALLY hope you all enjoy it! Please feel free to leave me reviews. I do not own The Walking Dead or its characters, blah blah. All I own is Fred and some chap stick.**

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The crowd had finally begun to dissipate once the show was over leaving Hershel, Dr. S, Maggie and Glenn. Even Rick had disappeared somewhere in the prison. Seeing the small woman hunched over, Maggie turned to the 3 men, glaring daggers in their direction. "What did I tell ya'll?" she was livid, speaking through gritted teeth. Not giving them a chance to respond, Maggie went into the cell and approached the bunk. Hearing another woman angrily speaking to them and footsteps heading her way, Fred looked up to see a young woman heading towards her. Concern was written all over her face, but she maintained a small smile, as she slowed in front of the bed. "My name's Maggie," she started and stopped abruptly when she saw Fred's raw, bloody wrist, still handcuffed. Whipping her head in the direction of the men, Maggie fought the urge to start screaming obscenities at them, partially because of the already shaken woman in front of her, and partially because one of them was her father.

Trying her best to remain calm, she took a deep breath. "Where's the key?" she asked. Hershel stepped forward slightly, pulling the key from his pocket. "I have it." he looked and sounded remorseful, which was not uncommon for him. Turning back to Fred, Maggie smiled at her again. "The man with the key right there," she pointed to Hershel, "He's my daddy, Hershel. I don't agree with them for lockin' you up like this, but I can promise you that you can trust them." Fred nodded at her slightly, still unsure about it. Fresh tears were threatening to run down her already stained cheeks. Sensing her fear, Maggie pointed at the remaining two men. "That man is Dr. S," but he cut her off, "Or you can just call me Caleb." he spouted quickly, trying to be friendly. Fred was already looking at him, analyzing him, he suspected. Again, she slightly nodded. Maggie picked up where she left off, "And that one belongs to me. My husband, Glenn." she finished, turning towards Glenn, who was looking thoroughly uncomfortable under the woman's stare. He gave a quick wave. Another nod.

Fred started to relax, ever so slightly. Whether it was from her fear beginning to disappear, or exhaustion, she didn't know. Maggie was smiling at her again, this time a bit bigger and Fred managed to return a small one to her. "Is it okay if my daddy comes in and un-cuffs you?" Maggie asked in a quiet voice. Fred eyed him again, taking in the furrow of his brow and his tired, but kind eyes. "Yes." she practically whispered. Her throat was dry and sore from her shouting match with the blue-eyed redneck. Maggie told Glenn to get some water for the woman and he was back quicker than a flash. Hershel came in the cell with a slight limp to his walk. Fred watched him and the way he looked at his daughter, Maggie. He smiled at her, clearly proud. Glenn handed her the glass of water and she chugged it while Hershel was un-cuffing her. "Thank you." she said to him, slightly out of breath. He smiled in return. Dr. S had joined them, by Hershel's side. Maggie took the cup from her and realization crossed her face. "I'm sorry," she shook her head. "I just remembered that I never asked your name."

Daryl was livid. He was pacing back and forth through his cell, going over the events that had just occurred. He paused, briefly, looking in the mirror at the small bruise forming on his right cheek and shook his head. A woman hit him. Not just a woman, but a _tiny_ woman and she left her mark on him. "Crazy bitch." He started pacing again, mumbling to himself. "I've been called a lotta things in my life, but that's a new one." Rick's voiced startled Daryl as he turned to see the former Sheriff leaning against the door to his cell. He stopped pacing and tried to glare at Rick, which was becoming increasingly hard due to the smirk that was growing across his face. Daryl even chuckled, surprising himself, "I ain't gonna doubt that."

Remembering why he was angry, Daryl had to resist the urge to start pacing again. Or even worse, punch something. "She was right you know." Rick was serious again. "I'm not sayin' she should 'a hauled off and punched you, but she was right 'bout waking up handcuffed with men leanin' over her. You forgot to mention that little detail in the cafeteria." This time Daryl couldn't resist pacing. "I didn't think it was important! What was I s'posed to do, huh? What would _YOU_ have done, Rick? Jus' in case ya haven't noticed, I ain't got a clue 'bout what I'm doin'!"

He stopped pacing and yelling when he found himself almost barreling down Rick, who calmly, continued to lean against the door. His smirk had disappeared and Daryl instantly felt bad for yelling at him. After all, it was Rick who had, for the most part, gotten them all this far. It was no wonder the man had nervous breakdown. "Rick, I'm sorry man, I jus'-" Rick cut him off. "Don't be. It's not an easy job. One person in charge ain't enough. That's why the counsel was started." Daryl looked down at his feet. "No one could agree an' I only had half 'a them with me. I..." He trailed off, sighing.

"You did fine, Daryl. But next time, make sure there's more women around than men. Unless you want more bruises on your pretty face." Rick was smirking again when Daryl snapped his head back up to glare at him. "Ha-ha." Daryl was clearly un-amused, and Rick took that as his cue to leave. He watched the man disappear down the stairs before turning back to look at himself in the mirror. Daryl wasn't vain in the slightest bit. He hardly even looked in a mirror unless he was trying to shave but this bruise on his face was making him self-conscious and he didn't know why. Feeling confused and angry, among other things, Daryl put on his vest, grabbed his crossbow and headed out to join whoever was on watch. He needed to take out some walkers.

Fred winced as the cuff came off her wrist. She had really done a number on herself. Glenn had brought her more water and she was sipping it when she felt someone's hand touching her now free hand. Almost dropping the cup she recoiled quickly with a slight jump. It was Dr. S and he looked surprised. "I- I'm sorry, d- did I hurt you?" he stuttered, looking at her and back to her wrist. She could feel all of their eyes on her. "No. I don't..." she paused, " I mean, I wasn't expecting..." she felt her face getting red, "I uhh, I don't like being touched. You caught me off guard." Fred was fidgeting with her uninjured hand, not making eye contact. "Oh. I really am sorry. I just wanted to look at your wrist. It needs to be cleaned and bandaged. I'm here to help. Just a habit, you know?" Dr. S shrugged when she finally looked up at him. They could all see her uneasiness. "Okay." was all that left her mouth before she held out her wrist to him. He smiled, "It might be easier if you came down from there." he laughed lightly. Nodding to him, she finally climbed down from the top bunk with help from Maggie, who had offered her hand to help.

After Dr. S had cleaned up her wrist, he was able to get a better look at her head injury as well. "Everything looks okay but you definitely have a mild concussion and should take it easy for a few days." he stated. Fred wanted anything but to be stuck there for any period of time but she knew he was right. "Alright," she sighed, and then realized he hadn't bandaged her wrist up. It was still slightly bleeding and very raw. "Shouldn't you bandage my wrist?" Confused, she saw him look at Maggie. "Thought maybe you'd wanna clean up first. Take a shower and get all that dirt off. Water's warm. He can bandage it after." Maggie said, smiling at Fred. "That would be amazing." Fred replied. She hadn't had a warm shower in days and hearing all this was music to her ears. Her stomach growled all of a sudden, reminding her that she hadn't eaten for hours. "We'll get you some food too, after." Maggie laughed a little, along with the others in the cell. "C'mon. I'll take you to the showers."

Clean and bandaged, Fred was sitting opposite of Maggie and her father in the prison's cafeteria, scarfing down her food, both of them chuckling at her. She looked up at them, mouth full of mashed potatoes. "Whuh?" she mumbled out, attempting to talk before swallowing her food. "Been awhile since we've seen someone that hungry." Hershel smiled at her. "It's been awhile since I've had a decent meal. A real one. Not just something canned or noodles of some sort. If I never eat Hamburger Helper again, it'll be too soon." Fred replied, taking another mouth full. Maggie looked confused. "Hamburger Helper? How did you make that?" Fred swallowed another bite, looking back and forth between them _"Shit." _Fred thought to herself before coolly responding. "On a stove. You know, before all this end of the world crap." she gestured at her surroundings. "I used to eat it a lot." she added. Maggie nodded her head along with her father, although he didn't look convinced.

Fred tried not to fidget. Hershel was watching her closely and she knew it. Maggie had been called to the far end of the room by Glenn, where they were both talking in hushed voices. All she managed to hear was something about Daryl and something about being "the only option right now". Hershel was still watching her. She finally looked up at him annoyed and poked her fork in his direction. "Anyone ever tell you that you look like Santa Claus?" she asked him. The corners of his mouth turned up and he let out a small laugh. "Only the ones who don't want charcoal in their stockings, which is hard to come by these days." his voice was somber but still carried humor with it. Fred couldn't help but laugh. She had meant to insult him originally but now she was glad she hadn't. He laughed with her, catching Glenn and Maggie's attention. There was something about this old man laughing with her. Something about him that put her mind at ease and, to her own surprise, she felt like she could trust him.

"Wait, why are you putting me in this one? What's wrong with the cell I woke up in?" Fred questioned Maggie who was carrying a pillow over to her new bunk. "Well, technically it's used for new or injured people we bring in. Just until we're sure they're okay. Like a temporary sick bay or holdin' cell. This is the only one we have right now. Rest of the cell blocks are full or not fit to be sleepin' in at the moment." Maggie explained to Fred as they put up a sheet over the cell bars so she would have privacy. Fred had responded with a simple "Okay." and finished with the sheet, they both walked back into her new cell. Maggie watched Fred as she took in her surroundings.

Across from the bunk bed was a small table with a lamp and chair, in the corner was a dresser with an old broken sink to the right of it. "It ain't much..." Maggie trailed off as Fred saw her belongings on the bed. Walking over to them, she realized her weapons were missing. "Where's my katana?" she asked, looking at Maggie before digging through her findings at the house. "My gun's not here either!" Fred was trying not to freak out on Maggie, knowing that she probably wasn't the one who took them. "They're locked up for now. You'll get them back when you leave or if you decide to stay and the council agrees to it." Maggie replied. "Council? What?" Fred was confused and becoming frustrated. "There's a small group that makes the decision on whether or not someone can stay here. They just ask you a couple questions and you're in. If you decide to stay, that is." Maggie explained to the other woman. Fred took all of it in, shook her head and gave a sort of half-hearted chuckle. "Right. Okay then." she said before turning back to her things and rifling through them.

Maggie felt bad for Fred. She knew that she'd be just the same way if she were in Fred's shoes. Sensing that Fred was done talking, she let her know that she and Glenn were in the fourth cell down from hers. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." and with that being said, Maggie left and went to her own cell. Fred, with her hands on her hips, sighed. "It's just for a few days." she reminded herself. Shaking her head one last time at the whole situation, she pulled out some clothes to sleep in and moved her stuff to the floor beside the table and chair. Looking at her watch and realizing it was a little after 1am, she changed into her sleepwear, turned off the lamp, slipped under the covers and closed her eyes, praying for sleep.

His shift was over. It had been over for a couple hours but he wasn't ready at the time to go in for the night. Michonne had joined him when her shift had started and followed beside him as they walked the perimeter, taking out "fence clingers" as he put it. Daryl was protesting her but she wouldn't budge. "You need to go in now. You look like shit," she paused to put her katana through the head of a walker on the other side of the fence. "And you're starting to smell like one of them." she added. A brief smile danced on her lips. He tried to protest again but she stopped him and pointed to the prison. "Go!" she demanded. "Fine. Whatever." Daryl gave in, turning around to head to the prison. If it had been anyone else talking to him like that, the situation would've ended up differently. He was no longer the same man he had been when he hooked up with the group in Atlanta with his brother, but he still didn't put up with bullshit.

Daryl was tired. Too tired to notice that Fred wasn't in the original cell and too tired to notice the new sheet covering the cell next to his. Putting down his crossbow, he grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the showers, thankful that no one else seemed to be awake. Folks being awake meant questions and prying eyes and that was the last thing he wanted at that moment. Thoughts of Fred tried to break through but he was able to push them away as soon as the warm water touched his skin. His showers were normally quick but the warmth was easing the tension in his muscles. Finally finished with the shower and dressing, Daryl headed back to his cell, still not noticing an empty one and a new sheet.

He couldn't sleep. For whatever reason, he still felt wired despite his exhaustion. Feeling a bit too warm, he removed his shirt, hoping that would help. Time kept ticking away and much to his annoyance, he still couldn't sleep. Guilt was riding up in his chest over Fred. He kept trying to justify his actions in his head but all he could picture was the fear in her eyes when he walked into the cell. The horror on her face when she realized it had been _him_ who brought her there. It was no wonder to him now why she punched him. _"Walkers would 'a eaten her."_ he had to keep reminding himself.

Daryl grumbled obscenities to himself before rolling over, turning on his light and pulling out a book that was hidden under his mattress. He wasn't as dumb as he knew other people thought. Reading had never been his thing in school, when he actually showed up, but now it gave him something else to focus on during the sleepless nights. The prison's library wasn't that great and in the end, he had grabbed a book about some wizard kid and a stone. Daryl actually enjoyed the book but he would never let anyone know that. Lying back on his bed, he opened it up and started reading. A few minutes passed and then some noise caught his attention. It was soft but he could tell it was coming from the empty cell next to his. Quietly as possible, he crept out of his bed. Grabbing his hunting knife from the table to be safe he walked towards his cell door.

Fred was wide awake. As tired and achy as her body felt, she wasn't comfortable sleeping. The bed itself wasn't all that bad, she'd certainly slept on worse, but she still felt uneasy. The people she had met seemed okay but it was the countless others that left her on edge. And of course there was _him_. She was equal parts angry at him and feeling guilty for slugging him. Mostly, she just felt guilty. He really _was_ just trying to help her, but the handcuffs were unnecessary. She chastised herself. How were they supposed to know she wasn't dangerous? _"They could've gone about it a different way." _she thought to herself. _"Too late now."_

She gave up on trying to sleep. Didn't help that she was freezing. She had already looked through her stuff for her hoodie and it was nowhere to be found. Her teeth were chattering and she was shivering. How anyone could sleep in this place, she didn't know. She decided she needed to find some warmer clothes and possibly another blanket until she left. In the meantime, Fred needed something to do to get her mind off of the cold. In the dark she rummaged through her pack to find her flashlight, not wanting to turn on her light in case it would wake someone.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, she looked through her findings at the last house and pulled out a crossword puzzle. Now she just needed a pen or pencil but couldn't seem to find one. Fred was frustrated and ready to give up when she saw the reflection of light coming from someone else's cell. _"Maybe they'll have a pencil. Or an extra blanket."_ she thought to herself before getting up and turning off her flashlight. She hesitated at the door to her cell. Fear was creeping in again. _"What if it's someone you don't know yet? What if you piss them off? What if... What if..." _

Fred had to shake the thoughts out of her head. Taking a quick breather, she stepped out of her cell. Realizing the light was coming from the cell next to hers, she started to walk towards it. Suddenly the sheet was pushed away and Fred, who was blinded by the bright light, threw her hands up to block the light. She smashed into something warm that was both soft and hard in spots. Fred heard something drop to the floor and felt hands wrap around her upper arms. It was a man. "Damn it!" he half whispered, surprised. His grip on her loosened up a bit. Fred was ready to run back into her room when he spoke again in a southern drawl that she instantly recognized. "Ya alright?" he asked. It was Daryl.


	4. Hot and Cold

**A/N: Hello Ladies! I'm so sorry for the delay. Going through a rough time and haven't been able to devote as much time as I would like to this. I do promise, however, that that'll change. This was originally going to be one long chapter but decided it needed to be broken into 2, partially because of the flow and partially because you've all been waiting for a new chapter. Please enjoy and leave your reviews. And as always, I don't own The Walking Dead or its characters. Fred is mine and so are my cookies.**

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Daryl squinted at the tiny person in his hands, his eyes not adjusting to the dark quite yet. He assumed that it was one of the younger girls based on her size. When she didn't respond, he asked her again, with a light shake. "Y-yes!" she managed to squeak out. She felt him stiffen; his grip on her arms had tightened again. "Fred." he said, his eyes finally adjusting to the dark. He could see her nodding. Fred was now painfully aware that her hands were flat against his chest but she felt frozen to the spot. "What're ya doin' out here?" he asked her. "Nothing. Not important. Sorry!" Fred responded quickly, getting her voice back. She tried to move away from him, but he didn't let go. "I ain't stupid," he sounded peeved, "Do ya need somethin'?" He looked down at her and released her arms from his grasp. "No, I'm fine. Really. Sorry." she shook her head, backing away.

Fred was vaguely aware of a light grumble that came out of Daryl. She turned to go back to her cell when she felt his hand wrap around her arm and she was pulled into his cell, blinded again by the light. "What the fu-" she started to yell before he clamped his hand over her mouth. When her face paled, he quickly took his hand away, realizing it wasn't the best move. He swore at himself. "Sorry," he said, looking down at his feet. "Shouldn't a done that." He crossed his arms and looked back up at her. She was just staring at him, looking completely confused. Fred didn't know what to say to him. She knew his intentions weren't to hurt her. It was very clear on his face in the way he looked at her. She could tell that, just like her, "Sorry" was a word he had used a lot. "It's alright." she said quietly. Now she was the one looking at her feet.

When her head turned down, the scar on her neck was briefly visible before disappearing behind dark red curls. Daryl stared at her. This was the first time he had the chance to really look at her and he could see just how small she really was. He guessed she was about a foot shorter than him, around 5 feet. From touching her, he knew her skin was soft. A golden tan from the sun, but he could faintly see what he assumed were scars, scattered from head to toe. Despite how thin she was, she was all curves in all the right places. He didn't mean to, but his eyes landed on her chest and he realized that her breasts were not only large, but she was not wearing a bra and was clearly feeling chilly. He gulped.

Almost as if she became aware herself, Fred crossed her arms and looked up at him just in time for him to look away from her chest and meet her big hazel green eyes. She wasn't wearing any makeup but she was still beautiful. Fred's hair framed her face, falling a few inches past her shoulders. She tilted her head slightly, watching him staring at her face and then her hair. Fred began feeling very self-conscience. "What?" she asked him, crossing her arms tighter around herself. "Huh?" was his response, snapping out of it finally. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, starting to feel tense. Fred was more than aware that she was wearing very little clothing and she wanted nothing more than to hide under her blankets, away from him and his scrutiny. Being attracted to him was not an option and his bare chest and arms were beginning to distract her.

"Your hair." he said to her, before grabbing his shirt, noticing where her eyes kept landing. Now he was feeling uncomfortable. He had forgotten he was shirtless and did not like anyone seeing him that way. "My hair?" her brows knitted briefly before she reached up to grab at one of her curls, "What about it?" she twisted a piece around her finger. _"Why do you ever care Fred?" _she thought to herself. Daryl, now fully clothed, leaned against his cell wall. He cursed at himself internally for not having thought through what he said before saying it. "Nothin'. It's uhh... red." Daryl wanted nothing more than to smack himself at that very moment. Fred rolled her eyes, still twisting a piece between her fingers. "Thank you, Captain Obvious." sarcasm rolled off her tongue. "It's beautiful." the words spilled from Daryl's mouth so smoothly, he couldn't believe he had actually said them and meant it.

The piece of hair Fred had been twisting, slipped from her fingers as her arm dropped slightly, realizing what he had just said. She looked at him and he looked almost as surprised at his words as she felt. Fred opened her mouth to thank him, but nothing came out. She could see him mentally chastising himself. That's when she noticed the bruise on his cheek. The bruise she gave him. Now she felt even worse. She shook her head and ran her hands over her face, catching his attention. "God, I'm so stupid sometimes! I'm sorry," she said, pointing to his cheek when he looked at her. He looked ready to say something but she stopped him. "Thank you for the compliment and um, you know, not being a dick about everything." Daryl tried to say something again but she stopped him again. "You wanted to know what I was doing up and really I just wanted an extra blanket or a pen. I should've just told you that right away and since this has been sufficiently awkward, I'm just gonna go back to my room, or cell or whatever and go to bed."

She turned around and headed to the door when she felt his hands on her shoulders. He turned her back around to him. Daryl reached over to the table next to him grabbing a pen and handed it to her. Before she could thank him, he grabbed a comforter from the top of his bunk and put it around her which in turn had pulled her close enough to him for her to feel the heat coming off of him. She could feel her face turning red, but if he noticed, it wasn't obvious. "How's that?" he asked her, with a small smirk on his face. She gave a small smile in return. "Better." Fred replied. He nodded, still smirking and he leaned against the bunk, watching her as she turned around and left the cell, this time without him stopping her. He shook his head at himself. "What are you doing Dixon?" he mumbled to himself, before turning off the light and flopping down on his mattress. Sleep followed quickly, filled with dreams of curves and red curls.

Fred stood in the middle of her cell. She felt unsure about everything that had just transpired. She felt unsure about everything that had happened that day and night. Everything felt like a whirlwind. The interactions between her and Daryl had gone from cold to hot in a matter of hours. Except that she was sure she was the only one feeling hot and either way was completely unacceptable. He seemed decent, albeit a bit impulsive, but nice all the same. _"So did all the others." _she thought, scoffing at herself. Attachments were not allowed, she reminded herself before setting the pen down on her table and crawling onto her bed. _"Maybe it'll be different this time..." _was her last thought before slipping into a deep sleep.

**Things seem to be okay for now right? Don't get too comfortable just yet, dear readers. This is only the beginning. **


	5. Welcome To Paradise

**A/N_ Sorry for the long wait folks. Life is crazy and I moved and have been without internet or even a cellphone. I'm gonna continue to try and update this as frequently as possible but it's not always that easy. Please leave me some reviews and let me know how you think this is going so far. I don't own The Walking Dead but I hope you enjoy anyway!_**

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Fred ran. She could feel herself screaming but no sound would escape her throat. The back of her neck singed from the eyes of the oppressor chasing her down. She couldn't run fast enough and hallway just seemed to grow longer as she ran down it. With no doors or windows to escape through, Fred could feel her will power draining. He was suddenly on top of her, shaking her hard, screaming at her, black soulless eyes boring holes in her skin. He slapped her. She cried out begging him to stop. "Fred!" he yelled, continuing to shake her. She couldn't see through the tears blurring her eyes, so she continued trying to kick and punch him away. "FRED!" his voice was suddenly deeper, his shape changing through her blur. "Fred! Dammit woman, WAKE UP!" he gave her another shake before Fred realized she was no longer dreaming and the man holding her shoulders was Daryl. Not him.

Daryl shook his head and cursed under his breath. "Hell of a dream ya were havin'. Thought I was gon' get a black eye this time." When she continued to just stare at him, he leaned closer to her. "Ya alright?" concern was heavy in his voice. Fred nodded her head wildly, causing more hair to stick to her face. Breathing heavily, but still not saying a word. Daryl examined her closely. She looked terrified, as usual, and he was quickly realizing that this was nothing new to her. He reached out to push her hair out of her face but she caught his wrist. "Don't," she started, her eyes wide. "and there is a HELL of a difference between a dream and nightmare." Her voice was flat and she began to push him away from her. Daryl moved and stood up near the end of the bed as she sat herself up.

Fred pushed her own hair out of the way, rubbed her hands over her face and started to get out of the bed when she realized Daryl was still standing there. Not just standing there, but arms crossed, chewing on a thumb and looking slightly confused. She was already put off by her nightmare; she didn't need a confused redneck to add to it. Especially when he looked so sexy just standing there. Shaking her head, she looked up at him through squinted eyes. "Did you need something, or...? You're just standing there." Daryl obviously wasn't expecting that. She noted as his thumb dropped from his mouth and he relaxed stance stiffened. He seemed at a loss for words. "I appreciate you waking me up but you can go now. I don't need some redneck eyeballing me first thing in the morning." she said to him, pointing towards the door.

Fred watched as anger covered his face. "The hell is your problem? I just wanted to make sure ya were okay!" he sounded hurt. Fred winced internally but she knew she was doing him a favor. She got out of her bed completely and started grabbing some clothes from her bags. "I'm perfectly fine, as you can see. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get ready for the day. Please leave." She didn't look at him, but continued to rifle through her stuff. When he didn't move, she looked at him and he was chewing on his thumb again a bit more aggressively.

She threw her hands in the air. He clearly didn't get it. "WHAT?" Fred practically yelled at him. He winced and dropped his thumb again. "Did I do somethin' wrong or somethin'? Ya were different last night an' I thought-" she cut him off with a laugh. "You thought what? Because you let me borrow your blanket, that we're friends now? Or we had a special moment or something? Take it back. I don't need it." She jerked her thumb back at the blanket, looking back through her stuff, chuckling. Fred hated acting like this but it was the only way. No attachments. "Why're you acting like such a BITCH?!" he growled at her. She turned her head to retort but was met by a wave off. "Forget it. Fuck the blanket and fuck ya too! No wonder ya were alone. I'd stay the hell away from you too." Daryl turned on his heel and stalked out of the room mumbling more obscenities under his breath.

Fred got up and sat herself slowly onto her bed. That wasn't supposed to hurt so much. Especially for him. Maybe he wasn't really hurt but he sure looked it. She didn't want to be mean, but this was the only way to survive. "No attachments, no feelings, no hurt." Fred repeated to herself quietly a few times before throwing on some clothes and makeup and heading to the cafeteria. She prayed to herself that she would be left alone and not bombarded by questions from strangers.

Fred was pleasantly surprised that beside the occasional nod or smile, people were leaving her alone.

She reminded herself that it probably had a lot to do with the previous day's outburst. Still, despite her mild embarrassment, she was pleased. The cafeteria was full but with plenty of sitting room still available. A waving hand, attached to Maggie caught her attention. Fred liked Maggie and knew that she wouldn't have to worry about hurting her feelings when she decided to leave so she approached the smiling woman. "Hey there! How'd ya sleep?" Fred wanted to tell her that she slept horribly and took it out on Daryl but just plastered a smile on her face instead. "Great! I haven't slept that well in ages." Fred lied smoothly.

She looked around the cafeteria, realizing there were actually far less people inhabiting the prison than she had originally thought. Maggie followed her eyes and realizing what the other woman was thinking, chimed in. "Nice days like today, most of the folks eat outside in the sun or at the picnic tables." Fred nodded her head and found herself curious about what else the prison had to offer. Warm showers and safe outdoors eating options. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all. "Why don't you grab a plate and we can grab a spot outside?" Maggie asked her. Fred agreed.

As they made their way outside, Maggie filled Fred in on all the safe areas of the prison, and the spots to avoid. Finding a spot on the lawn, Maggie also filled Fred in on what went down in Woodbury and that's where most of the people were from, other than the occasional straggler that Daryl found. "Kinda like you." Maggie smiled at Fred but Fred was frowning. She was failing miserably at not feeling bad about being mean to him. "I'm pretty sure he regrets that now." Fred responded looking up at the passing clouds. "I doubt it." Maggie said and was met by a face of doubt cast her way. "Really, I mean it. Daryl used to be a real asshole. Snarky racist with a bad attitude." This caught Fred's attention and Maggie continued. "I blame it mostly on his brother. Merle was the REAL asshole and Daryl got caught up in all his bullshit. It's a long story, the two of them, but fact is that he ain't that person anymore. He stepped up and really changed for the better. I think he was always secretly ashamed of himself or somethin'. Anyway, my point is that he's like family now and no matter what ya said or did, he'll come around."

Before Fred could do more than nod, Maggie was whisked away by Glenn to 'Help in the boiler room' which Fred suspected was code for sex. She shook her head and took in everything the pretty brunette had just told her. She felt awful but tried her best to let it go. Taking a bite of her peach, she sighed and watched the clouds continue to roll slowly by. Finishing her peach, she put the pit on her plate and was about to lie on her back when a woman's voice came from behind her. "Can I take your plate?" Fred looked up behind her to see a slightly older woman with very short, graying hair and blue eyes smiling down at her. Fred smiled back and handed her the plate. "Thank you!" she said to her. The woman squatted beside her. "I'm Carol." She said to her, holding out her hand. Fred took it. "Fred. Nice to meet you." Carol stood back up. "Nice to meet you too! Welcome to paradise." She said with a smirk before turning around and heading back towards the prison. Now alone, Fred decided to take this opportunity to explore the grounds on her own.

Several hours later, Fred had eaten both lunch and dinner, met a few of the others, including a kid named Carl, explored all that she could outside and was unhappy with the lack of trees. Carl laughed at her. He had decided to stick around with her out of boredom but she suspected he was avoiding his dad whom she had yet to meet. "I told ya we didn't have any. Why would there be trees inside a prison fence?" She sighed. "Oh, I don't know. For shade?" she shrugged and he laughed at her again which was promptly met by her sticking her tongue out at him. He shook his head, still laughing. "What're ya, 5?" which made Fred laugh but before she could respond, they were stopped short by a man standing in their way. "Carl."

It was his father. "I'd ask where ya been but I think that's clear." He indicated towards Fred who winced. Carl had started to apologize but his dad shooed him off to do his chores. Fred had remained quiet the whole time, hoping she didn't get him into too much trouble and now hoping she wasn't in trouble. She had heard he was a former Sheriff and the group's former leader. He turned to Fred with a small smile and his hand out. "I'm Rick. I hope Carl wasn't giving you too much trouble." Fred shook his hand and her head. "Not at all. He offered to show me around and keep me safe but I suspect he was avoiding you. Sorry if I kept him from his responsibilities." He nodded. "Don't be. Carl knows better. He lost his mother a bit recently and he's been pushing it since. He means well though." Fred smiled, "He seems like a good kid. Let him know he's welcome to hang anytime and keep an eye on me."

"I will if you decide to stay." Rick was suddenly serious. "What do you mean?" She asked him confused. "He just lost his mom, remember? I don't want him to get attached if you're just gonna up an' leave in a few days." His response threw Fred off for a moment before she really thought about it. "Okay, fair enough. It wouldn't be right of me to befriend your son if I'm just gonna take off…" Fred crossed her arms. "If this were still a normal world." She added. When Rick didn't respond, she continued. "There's no guarantee about tomorrow or any days after that. Anyone could die. Especially one of your people out on supply runs. I'm sure you've already lost a lot of people as it is. Times like this, we need each other to support each other. You can't let him not get attached out of fear of him getting hurt and-" Fred cut herself off. Realization of what she just said out loud hit her like a ton of bricks. "I think ya got a point." Rick's voice snapped her out of her head. She just stared at him. The sun had gone down but the outline of a smile was still visible on his face. "I'll be sure to let Carl know he can bug ya tomorrow." Rick said before turning around and heading the way his son had gone.

Fred couldn't believe what she had just said. Everything she had stood against almost her entire life had been thrown back at her in a way she had never expected. She had never needed anyone in her life. Nothing but hurt followed with any kind of trust or friendship. Maybe it was time to change that. These people she was with were a lot more than outwardly decent folks. That was clear as day. Fred could still feel the tug of hesitation on her heart. She needed to find higher ground. Fred needed to climb. But she also really needed to know why she was being followed.


End file.
